


Things Which Are Seen Were Not Made Of Things Which Do Appear

by apocryphile



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Gen, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:10:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocryphile/pseuds/apocryphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After CJ balances the egg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Which Are Seen Were Not Made Of Things Which Do Appear

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Hebrews 11:3 (Hebrews 11:1 is "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen").

“Guys? GUYS?”

When no one answered, CJ sped out of Leo’s office, wondering if there’d be anyone in the press room she could borrow a camera from. She knew, really, that they’d come back to find the egg resting innocuously on its side (or, far worse, that it had rolled off the table and smashed on the floor, a crime for which she knew Leo would exact revenge). But the increasingly familiar euphoric rush of adrenaline after another brush with danger was dancing in her veins, and she wanted someone to… something with. 

Even in her head that sounded wrong, and she was glad, for a moment, that Toby was gone. 

Outside the Roosevelt room she nearly collided with a startlingly handsome man who was holding a sheaf of paperwork out in front of him like he thought it might spontaneously combust. His eyes went wide as he recognized her, and then wider still when she beamed radiantly at him and shook his hand.

“You must be Joe Quincy.”

“I… yes.”

She didn’t even bother to introduce herself.

“Did you get the job?”

“I… uh, yes.”

“That’s great. Wanna celebrate?”

He looked absolutely terrified and she nearly laughed out loud, but to her surprise he recovered quickly and actually nodded. Improvising, she motioned for him to follow her, and blew through the lobby at top speed, chattering.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get the opportunity to identify an actual pattern in the way I deal with nearly dying… Did you meet Donna?”

He barely even reacted to the sudden shift in gears.

“I did. She seems very nice. People talk about her a lot.”

CJ ignored him.

“She’s fun. She’ll celebrate with us, and if she steals Josh’s beer he won’t get mad.”

“You’re right, he probably won’t.”

This time she paid attention to what he was saying and narrowed her eyes at him.

“I am right, but how do you know that?”

“When I said people talk about her a lot, I meant Josh.”

She absorbed this for a moment.

“Josh talked to you about Donna during your job interview?”

She smiled in spite of herself. The man was impossibly, infuriatingly adorable in his unswerving (and possibly unconscious, she was never quite sure) devotion. 

“He said she got a death threat.”

CJ switched gears so fast her stomach actually lurched.

“He said WHAT?”

They’d reached the Operations Bullpen and she didn’t wait for his response before flinging the door of the Deputy Chief of Staff’s office open.

“Joshua Lym—“

She froze in her tracks.

Josh was leaning against the wall behind his desk, his phone tucked between his head and shoulder, his eyes hidden by a hand lifted to his face. His other hand was on Donna’s waist where she was tucked against his side, watching him with a worried look on her face. 

CJ spun around so fast she nearly stumbled, and pushed Joe back out of the office. 

“Stay here.”

She snatched the forms, long-forgotten, which he still held, and then closed the door as quietly and carefully as she could. She caught Donna’s eye and raised her eyebrows questioningly; the younger woman nodded slightly. Josh hadn’t even reacted, apparently listening intently to whoever – presumably Dr Keyworth – who was on the phone. CJ set the forms down, found a post-it note and scribbled Joe’s name on it, and then walked around the desk on Josh’s other side, whispering his name to alert him to her presence before she touched him. He dropped his hand and blinked at her, resting the phone against his shoulder. She squeezed his arm.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to check if you were OK.”

“I was alright and then…” he trailed off. Donna took the phone from him and quietly explained they’d call back in a few minutes. Josh sagged against the wall as she moved away and she quickly stepped back to his side. He put his arm back around her without looking. 

CJ swallowed, the sudden lurch from euphoria to worry leaving a bitter taste in her mouth she vaguely knew was probably adrenaline. 

“Joe Quincy was with me just then.”

“I know.”

She hadn’t realized Josh had even been aware of her bursting in. 

“It’s OK, CJ. He’s a good guy. He says no one believes it anyway.”

“I wasn’t worried about-“

“It’s OK,” he repeated. “We talked about Donna too.”

“He said.”

Donna bit her lip and looked away. CJ reached across Josh and laid a hand on her elbow.

“Are you OK?”

She nodded quickly.

“Ron said it was nothing.”

CJ still wasn’t satisfied, but they both looked devastated and now she had the male Ainsley Hayes probably elaborating some twisted theory out in the hallway, if he’d even had the courtesy to wait. 

“OK.” She exhaled slowly. “You two should go home and get some sleep.”

The look that passed between them could have signified any number of things; CJ chose to interpret it as Josh refusing to go home and Donna admonishing him. She pushed herself off the wall, and found Joe waiting outside the door exactly where she’d left him. His genuinely concerned expression mollified her, and she opted to ask rather than threaten.

“We would all really appreciate it if you could keep that to yourself.” She took a deep breath. “All… all of that.”

He nodded immediately, and she found that she believed him.

“You should know that the same people who don’t care about the PTSD also don’t care whether he’s schtupping his assistant, but that everyone thinks he is, including the people who do care.”

She grimaced as she tried to untangle the convoluted sentence, and then sighed.

“I know.”

He blinked, and she started walking. When he fell in step with her, she allowed herself a small smile.

“Thank you for not asking what I think.”

“If I tell you it’s because I know what you think rather than because I don’t care what you think, will you be less grateful?”

His habit of pointing back and forth in midair when delivering confusing statements was going to have to be trained out of him, she decided. 

“You can’t possibly know what I think. I don’t know what I think.”

“You don’t know whether they are or not but you think it’d be OK if they were.”

It was so exactly correct that she actually stopped in her tracks, nodding, slowly, in spite of herself. Before she could respond, Josh’s door opened.

She lifted a finger to her lips, but there was no need – Joe had tactfully turned away. CJ, on the other hand, couldn’t help but stare, looking for reassurance that her friends would be OK.

She found it in the determined set of Donna’s jaw, in the fact that in spite of everything, Josh still had his backpack, in the tiny smile they exchanged when Josh successfully locked his door on the first try without kicking or cursing (what was it with that man and keys?), and in the way their hands brushed together as they set off.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“You know what I think?” whispered Joe, reading her expression. CJ turned to face him, and felt her mouth curving into a smile in response to his own.

“I hope they are.”


End file.
